


bloom

by ravenbranwyn



Series: RWBY [18]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Character Study, F/F, Falling In Love, POV Second Person, Present Tense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 08:12:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17845700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenbranwyn/pseuds/ravenbranwyn
Summary: Your name is Blake Belladonna, and this is how you fall in love.





	bloom

Your name is Blake Belladonna, and this is how you fall in love.

It is not how it is in your novels. It is not a match to gasoline or even a candle being lit in a dark room. It is not what you had with Adam, that hurt so badly and felt like you were drowning. Instead it is gentle, like waves lapping at a sun-warmed shore, and it is barely noticeable, until it isn’t.

She is the sun, burning fury in battle and a gentle warmth in your downtime, and on your second meeting you give her a piece of yourself as you toss the other end of Gambol Shroud to her. You say it quietly in that moment, _here is a piece of me, keep it safe,_ and you don’t know if she hears you but she takes that piece and grins victoriously at you across the gap the two of you are bridging.

There are moments in your partnership where she is too close to what Adam was and you shy away, but she always ultimately proves herself to be different and you can breathe again. But you don’t realize what it is until you see her, this girl that is made of sunlight and love and laughter, rush the man who has tormented you for so long.

In that moment, as Yang screams  _"Get away from her!"_ and leaps at him, you can almost hear, _not her, me, take a piece of me, but leave her alone,_ and it gives you the strength to put yourself in between them and get her out of there. And as you lay curled up on the ground sobbing apologies a realization makes itself known to you and you let yourself cry a little harder until the paramedics get her loaded onto an airship and then you leave.

And you are eighteen years and four months old when you see her again, across a room filled with people you know and love and all you can say is her name. When you stand before her and wait for her judgement, you hold back tears, and she smiles and welcomes you back and it takes everything in you to not throw yourself into her arms once more.

Falling in love isn’t how you read it. It is not one of you fixing the other and receiving nothing in return. It is not pain, it is not drowning, or burning, or a sword in the side. 

What it _is_  is taking her hand and feeling your missing pieces slot together as you face down your demons side by side. It is the feeling of metal fingers over yours. It is sunlight on a spring day, it is the back of a stolen airship, it is blonde hair and lavender eyes and a laugh like the most beautiful noise you have ever heard.

It is Yang.


End file.
